


New Follower

by TheInevitableSense



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Character Death, F/F, Free The Bees, Hamilton Gift Exchange 2k16, M/M, Memes, too many memes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 15:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8494417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInevitableSense/pseuds/TheInevitableSense
Summary: Alexander gains a new follower on Tumblr.For The Hamilton Gift Exchange 2k16





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpeckledCoffeeCups](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpeckledCoffeeCups/gifts).



> To Secret_Rendezlous:
> 
> You said to be creative.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Alexander has a new follower.

The notification pops up late at night while he’s scrolling through Tumblr, startling him. He wonders _why_ he’s gotten a notification, he turned those off ages ago. Then he realizes it is not about his normal, public blog or even his side blog. It is about his personal blog, the one he only gives out to friends.

He opens the notification and stares at it. He doesn’t recognize the username. _BirdsOfAFeather_. He hums to himself and cross-checks it against his other blogs. They’re not following his official Treasury Secretary blog or his political rant blog. Just his personal one. Alex, curious, flicks through BirdsOfAFeather’s blog, expecting a porn bot.

He snorts to himself. It is nothing but memes. Alexander spots a few he’s reblogged, and a few that this Birds fellow has reblogged from him already. There are a couple of text posts here and there, but nothing major. An article about the Obergfell ruling. Alexander glances at the profile picture. It’s an image of what looks to be a bowl of ice cream colored like the pride flag.

For a minute, Alexander considers ignoring it and making his blog password-protected. This is the one thing he has online that’s not somehow popular, and he kind of likes it that way. He can just dick around and no one judges him. Then he thinks: _Nah. This guy doesn’t even know who I am_. _It’s fine_.

Alexander smiles down at an Arthur meme that Birds has that he hasn’t seen yet. He reblogs it, and hits the ‘follow’ button as almost an afterthought.

He goes back to his political rant blog and finishes his essay on ‘Reasons Thomas Jefferson Sucks, Part 5.’

\------------

“…As an afterthought sir,” Jefferson says, glaring at Alexander from across the table, “I would think one shouldn’t put diplomatic trust in a man who writes a five part essay at 3 A.M. on why he hates his fellow cabinet members.”

“It’s going to be six parts after this meeting,” Alexander mutters. Washington glares at him.

“Furthermore,” Jefferson continues, “France is an important ally that should not be blown off on the word of a petulant child.”

“I'm not saying we ‘blow them off,’ we just need to take a rain check on this _particular_ conflict,” Alexander says.

“And _what_ conflict do you suggest we get involved in?” Jefferson asks, one eyebrow cocked smugly.

“Well, none of them preferably, but—”

“If we provide France aid, we shut down any future conflict in the region.”

“If we provide France aid, all we’ll do is bankrupt ourselves while helping to destabilize Western Europe. Not to mention what’ll happen in the Middle East.”

“Oh, there’s your favorite word again.” Jefferson rolls his eyes. “ _Bankruptcy_.”

“What’s wrong with the word ‘bankrupt?’”

“It’s your argument for _everything_ , Hamilton. If we do X, we go bankrupt. Not everything is the economical end of the world.”

“No, but a _war_ could be!” Alexander rises from his seat, glaring at the smug Virginian. “If we throw our lot behind France, we’ll find ourselves hemorrhaging money to sustain a Middle Eastern conflict that’s never going to end.”

“If we help our French allies out, we can work together to end the violence in the Middle East. Are we really going to abandon our staunchest historical ally because we’re afraid of some _terrorists_?”

“We’re going to give them an ‘IOU’ they can cash when our economy is strong again.”

“And when is that going to be? Two months? Two decades?”

“When you _sign my Wall Street reform bill_ ,” Alexander spits.

“Not everything is about your damn reform bill, Hamilton,” Jefferson says. “This is about providing aid to our friends and helping to end a global scourge—”

“We could end a ‘global scourge’ by reforming Wall Street!”

“That has nothing to do—”

“It has everything to do—” Alex interrupts, but Jefferson just keeps talking. Alexander raises his voice to shut him up but Jefferson just gets louder. They’re practically shouting over each other when Washington hits the table.

“Enough!” Washington commands. Both men fall silent. Washington looks as if he’s ready to burst. “We’re going to adjourn this meeting until tomorrow. In the meantime, I suggest you _both_ come up with better arguments than ‘friendship’ and ‘Wall Street.’” Washington gathers his things and looks at his watch. “It’s almost 6:00. Go home for the evening. _Both of you_ ,” he says, with a look at Alexander. When Washington turns his back, Alexander scowls at Jefferson. Jefferson doesn’t see, he’s already flicking through his phone and walking out the door. Alexander huffs, gathers his papers and storms out of the meeting room.

\--------------

“How was work?” John Laurens, Alexander’s roommate, asks. Alexander slams his briefcase onto the table and puts his head in his hands.

“Just _wonderful_ , John. Absolutely _peachy_.”

“Jefferson, huh?” John pats the spot on the couch next to him. Alexander throws off his tie and collapses into the seat.

“Yep,” Alexander says through gritted teeth. John hums and hands Alexander the remote.

“Wanna watch Fox and yell?”

“Hell yeah.” Alexander changes the channel, hitting the buttons much harder than he really needs to. Alexander starts griping as soon as Bill O'Reilly’s face appears, and it doesn’t take John very long to get into the swing of it either.

They only make it about an hour before John turns off the TV with a “ _Fuck you Bill O’Reilly!_ ” The apartment falls silent as John shuffles off to the kitchen. Alexander is still breathing hard from his last tirade, but much of the rage and fire in his veins has cooled for now. Screaming at people that can’t scream back can be therapeutic, in Alexander’s experience. Screaming at people that _do_ scream back, like Jefferson, however—

 _No_ , he thinks. _Not going to think about him_. Alexander pulls out his phone and sees he’s got a reblog notification from tumblr. It’s BirdsOfAFeather. They’ve been busy, and Alexander’s dash is _flooded_ with memes. He reblogs a few before coming to what looks like an original from Birds. It’s a gif of some woman saying ‘hold my earrings,’ and he’s captioned it “When you’re having a bad day and that _asshole_ at work looks at you funny.”

Alexander snorts. _Fucking Jefferson_ , he thinks as he copies the gif, reblogs the post with it and writes, “When you just _see_ that asshole.” Satisfied, he closes the app as John reemerges with popcorn and booze.

“Wanna watch _The Room_?” He asks.

\------------

“ _YOU’RE TEARING ME APART LISA!_ ” Alexander and John shout in time with the movie. John throws a handful of popcorn at the tv and laughs. It scatters across the floor in a million directions.

“You’re cleaning that up,” Alexander says, waving his half-finished beer at John. John rolls his eyes and throws another handful at Alexander. “ _Hey!_ ” Alexander grabs a handful from his own bucket and retaliates. They’re flicking stray kernels at one another when the credits roll.

“Dude, it’s like midnight,” John says. “I’m going to bed.”

“Not until you clean up the popcorn,” Alexander says. John groans and flops to the floor. He’s picking up pieces when he looks up to find Alexander on his phone.

“Hey!” He says. “Help me out here, yeah?”

“Nah,” Alexander says.

“You were throwing popcorn too.”

“But you started it.” Alexander scrolls through his tumblr dash again. Birds reblogged the gif post from earlier. He snorts when he sees the new addition. It’s the same gif, but a third caption has been added: “When the asshole breathes in your direction.”

Alexander reblogs it again, adding a fourth gif and caption pair. “When the asshole isn’t even in the room but you can still smell his cologne.” He scrolls for a bit longer, then refreshes. Birds has made a fifth set:

“When some asshole on tumblr takes your joke and makes it better.”

Alexander actually laughs, drawing a look from John. He reblogs the post without adding anything and opens Bird’s blog. He finds the ‘new message’ option and opens a new log. According to tumblr, they’ve been mutuals for 20 hours. Alexander toys with the wording of his message before settling on something short and sweet:

**pitsoffashion: my dude,,,**

He waits a moment for a response, but gets nothing. He frowns at the screen, knowing that Birds is still probably online. He’s considering a double message when popcorn rains down on his head. He looks up at a smirking John with an empty popcorn bowl in his hands.

“Asshole,” Alexander accuses. John laughs.

“Your turn. Throw it away when you’re done, yeah?” With that, John disappears into his bedroom. Alexander yells something about shitty roommates and just gets a barking laugh from John in response. He begrudgingly gathers the spilled popcorn and tosses it in the trash. He returns to the couch and picks up his phone.

Birds has responded. Alexander opens his messenger, smile creeping across his face.

**BirdsOfAFeather: Too far?**

Alexander’s smile drops.

**pitsoffashion: no no of course not i laughed**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Okay good.**

**pitsoffashion: i wasn’t expecting that but it was great**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Thanks. I liked yours.**

**pitsoffashion: thanks my dude.**

**pitsoffashion: so you’ve got an asshole at work too?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Who doesn’t?**

**pitsoffashion: truuuu,,,,,**

**BirdsOfAFeather: The Asshole At Work is just an universal constant. A guarantee from the powers that be.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Life, Liberty, the Pursuit of Happiness, and the Asshole at Work.**

**pitsoffashion: fukgin**

**pitsoffashion: yes.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: What I wouldn’t give to punch him right in that smug little face of his.**

**Pitsoffashion: SAME**

\--------------

**BirdsOfAFeather: I don’t know what time it is where you are, but it’s late for me. Got work in the morning.**

Alexander glances at the time: it’s almost 2:00 in the morning. He looks up from his phone screen. He hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch. His neck creaks as he looks around. He’d been talking to Birds for almost two hours.

**pitsoffashion: same, but i don’t sleep anyways**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Insomnia or…?**

**pitsoffashion: kind of? nightmares. also i work a lot at night.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Shift work?**

**pitsoffashion: no. i just write a lot. can’t do it all at work so i gotta do it at home.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: You need sleep.**

**pitsoffashion: so do you my dude. im fine.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I am trying to sleep.**

**pitsoffashion: then get off tumblr.**

Birds doesn’t reply, and Alexander figures that they must have taken his advice. He scrolls through his dash for a while, but gets bored. He thinks about messaging Birds again, but if they’re asleep then Alex doesn’t want to push it. He shuts off his phone and calls it a night.

\-------------

“You’re nothing without Washington behind you,” Jefferson teases. Alexander opens his mouth to retort, only to be cut off by the President calling his name. Jefferson smirks, and adds: “Daddy’s calling.” Jefferson spins on one heel and strides out of the meeting room, leaving Alexander alone with Washington.

Washington, from behind his desk, sighs. “Son—”

“Don’t call me son.”

“Fine, Alexander,” Washington starts, “You need to stop this fighting with Thomas.”

“Why?” Alexander asks.

“Because, he’s part of the cabinet and you two need to act better than children.”

“I’ll act better once someone else is Secretary of State.”

“Thomas is the Secretary of State and I’m not going to fire him on a whim from you.”

“It would be your choice, sir. No one would know if I had anything to do with it!” Alexander protests, but Washington is already pulling a stack of papers out of his desk. The drops the hefty load on the desk and Alexander glances down at the top paper. It’s a printed out copy of his five part anti-Jefferson essay.

“Would they now?” Washington asks. Alexander swallows. That had been on his political rant blog. It wasn’t officially tied to his name, but…

“I want you to retract _all_ of this and issue a formal apology,” Washington says, poking the stack with a finger.

“Sir!”

“If we are to run a respected administration, we cannot have our cabinet members fighting like cats and dogs. Retract it.”

Alexander feels the heat rising to his face. “How did you even find this?”

“Thomas did,” Washington says, “and showed it to me.”

“Of course he did,” Alexander mutters. “Asshole.” Washington glares at him. Alexander shuffles in place, before meeting the president’s gaze. “I’ll retract it. But no apology.”

“Alexander—”

“I won’t apologize because it’s all true.”

“Alexander Hamilton,” Washington says, a warning clear in his voice. Alexander doesn’t back down.

“Sir.” Alexander holds eye-contact with Washington until the man sighs and looks down.

“Better than nothing, I guess. Get out of my office.”

Alexander nods stiffly and leaves, not wanting to push his luck. He feels his blood boiling. _How in the hell had Jefferson found the essay_? He pulls out his phone with the intent to find someone to complain too. John and Herc are both at work. Eliza’s probably not a good choice. Neither’s Maria. Lafayette is Jefferson’s friend. He’s scrolling through his contacts when the idea hits him. He opens Tumblr and gets to his messages.

**pitsoffashion: holy shit my dude**

**BirdsOfAFeather: What?**

The response is surprisingly speedy. Alexander sends a grateful prayer for that.

**pitsoffashion: the ASSHOLE**

**BirdsOfAFeather: What did he do?**

**pitsoffashion: he embarrassed me in front of my boss.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: What happened?**

**pitsoffashion: i called him out on his bullshit so he went and tattled on me.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: What an asshole.**

**pitsoffashion: i /know/.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: My asshole’s being bad today too, if that helps.**

**pitsoffashion: spill it my dude.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: He looked me in the eye and told me that he’s willing to let a mutual friend of ours die for money.**

**pitsoffashion: holy fuck**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yeah.**

**pitsoffashion: man, fuck the assholes.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: The world would be so much better without them.**

**pitsoffashion: preach it.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m just glad we don’t share an office. A friend of mine had to once, and said it was the worst experience of his life.**

**pitsoffashion: at least your asshole doesn’t steal your friends.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: How did he steal your friends if he’s an asshole?**

**pitsoffashion: DON’T ASK ME!!!!**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Must have been a shitty friend.**

**pitsoffashion: yeah. didn’t think so at the time.**

Alexander has to remind himself to put the phone down and work. He juggles reading some reports and talking to Birds as best he can. He thinks he’s doing a pretty good job until he sends an email to Adams that contained a message meant for Birds. Adams’ response is just a series of question marks. Alexander groans to himself.

\--------------

Alexander has been talking to Birds regularly for two weeks when things change. Alexander is sitting at his desk, scratching out a basic report on the status on the Federal Reserve when his phone beeps. He picks it up and opens the message.

**BirdsOfAFeather: Can I ask you a favor?**

**pitsoffashion: sure.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Can we just… talk?**

**pitsoffashion: about what?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I don’t care. Just talk to me.**

**pitsoffashion: you okay?**

It takes Birds a minute to reply, during which Alexander grows more and more concerned for his friend.

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m having a bad day.**

**pitsoffashion: what’s wrong?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: It’s the six year anniversary of my girlfriend's death.**

**pitsoffashion: oh shit.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yeah.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Can you just distract me?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: There’s no one else I can turn to.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I don’t really have any friends.**

**pitsoffashion: of course my dude.**

Alexander bites his lip, trying to think of something to say. He goes through his list of things he does when he’s having a bad day, trying to find something to help Birds. Somehow, he lands on an idea.

**pitsoffashion: i just saw this really good movie.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Oh?**

**pitsoffashion: yeah! i don’t remember what it was called, but i’ve got a copy of the script on my phone.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: ????**

**pitsoffashion: don’t question my life choices.**

**pitsoffashion: anyway, i’ll send it to you. it’s hilarious.**

Alexander pulls up his notes and copy-pastes the first portion of it into a message.

**pitsoffashion: According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Oh fuck off.**

**pitsoffashion: oh come on, it’s good.**

**pitsoffashion: We know that you, as a bee have worked your whole life to get to the point where you can work for your whole life. Honey begins when our valiant Pollen Jocks bring the nectar to the hive. Our top-secret formula is automatically color-corrected, scent-adjusted and bubble-contoured into this soothing sweet syrup with its distinctive golden glow you know as...Honey!**

**BirdsOfAFeather: That’s not even the next part.**

**pitsoffashion: ahh so you know it.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Son, let me tell you about stirring. You grab that stick, and you just move it around, and you stir it around. You get yourself into a rhythm. It's a beautiful thing.**

**pitsoffashion: !!!!!**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Ladies and gentlemen, please, free these bees!**

**pitsoffashion: free the bees!!**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Free the bees!!!!!!**

**pitsoffashion: FREE THE BEEESS!!!!1!1!!!!**

And then Birds sends him a distorted picture of Barry the Bee’s face with the the phrase “Free the Bees” photoshopped over it and Alexander loses it. He’s cackling, curled over his phone when Jefferson sticks his head into his office.

“Oh, thought I heard you dying and I wanted to come watch,” Jefferson says. Alexander looks up, tears in his eyes from laughing.

“Fuck off, Jefferson,” he says, pulling up his camera roll and looking for another picture of Barry.

“On our phones during the workday, are we?” Jefferson taunts. Alexander immediately stops laughing and glares up at him.

“I’m helping out a friend, Jefferson. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, seeing as you have no friends,” he shoots back, mind working to come up with something funny to send to Birds. Jefferson almost looks like he’s been struck, and he opens his mouth to say something before leaving Alexander’s office. He slams the door behind him hard enough to shake the door frame.

 _What’s his problem?_ he wonders. Then he turns back to his conversation with Birds and forgets all about Jefferson.

\------------

It’s much later that day, around the time Alexander is cleaning up his office to head home when Birds turns the conversation from memes back to his problems.

**BirdsOfAFeather: I need your help, my dude.**

**pitsoffashion: what do you need?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Well, I’ve been hiding in this closet at work for the past three hours and I need to get up and go home.**

**pitsoffashion: you’re just locked in a closet?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yeah.**

**pitsoffashion: what are you doing in the closet?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Having a goddamned party, what do you think?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m crying.**

**pitsoffashion: are you okay?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: No.**

Alarm bells start ringing in Alexander’s head. Quickly, he types out:

**pitsoffashion: what can i do?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I don’t know.**

**pitsoffashion: i can just listen, if you wanna talk.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Why?**

**pitsoffashion: because i can.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: You don’t even know who I am.**

**pitsoffashion: maybe not. but you’re still my friend.**

It takes Birds an excruciatingly long time to respond. Though it’s probably only a few seconds, Alexander feels like it takes hours for the next message to come through.

**BirdsOfAFeather: You wouldn’t say that if you really knew me.**

**pitsoffashion: i’m sure i would.**

**pitsoffashion: and besides, i do know you.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: No you don’t. If you did you wouldn’t still be talking to me. You’d hate me, like everyone else.**

**pitsoffashion: no i wouldn’t. and not everyone hates you, i’m sure.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: My girlfriend is dead, I have no friends and I’m nothing but a burden on everyone around me.**

**pitsoffashion: one: you are not a burden. two: i know you have friends because you have me.**

**pitsoffashion: don’t you have a best friend?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yeah, I guess. He’s chronically ill though. He doesn’t have time or energy to deal with my bullshit.**

**pitsoffashion: i’m sure that’s not true. if he calls you his best friend, he cares about you so much. i know i love my best friend like a brother and i’m sure he feels the same way.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: He’s so sick though.**

**pitsoffashion: then call him up. talk to him. if he’s sick, i’m sure he’d appreciate talking to you.**

**pitsoffashion: it’ll make you feel better too.**

Alexander stands in the middle of his office, staring intently at his phone for a minute. When Birds doesn’t respond, he sends one last message: “tell me how it goes,” and leaves the White House. He’s driving home when his phone dings again. When he pulls into his parking spot, he whips it out.

**BirdsOfAFeather: You were right. Thank you. I’m going home now. Pray I don’t run into the asshole on the way out.**

\--------------

“Who’s that?” John asks, peering over Alexander’s shoulder at his phone. Birds is at a conference for their job, one that Jefferson is also attending, and Birds keeps sending him pictures of random men asking if they’re Alexander’s Asshole From Work. More specifically, they’re asking Alexander if he’s found Dwight. “Who the hell is Dwight?”

“The nickname me and Birds came up to refer to our assholes at work. You know, Dwight. Everyone has a Dwight,” Alexander explains, flailing his arms. John snorts.

“You and this ‘Birds’ person really hit it off, didn’t you?”

“They’re a good person!” Alexander insists. Another photo comes through, and though it’s not Jefferson, he laughs at the sneer on the stranger’s face.

**BirdsOfAFeather: This one is particularly annoying.**

**pitsoffashion: i’m sure he’s someone’s dwight, but he’s not mine.**

**pitsoffashion: i could just describe dwight to you, you know. or give you his name.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Nope. I’m going to find him on my own.**

John reads the messages and rolls his eyes. “Nerds,” he says, earning a gentle swat from Alexander. “I’m going to get food. Want anything?”

“Chinese!” Alexander exclaims. John laughs.

“Okay, Alex. Be back soon.”

\--------------

John doesn’t come home that night.

John doesn’t come home ever again.

\-------------

Someone tells Alexander that John tried to play hero in a robbery at a Chinese place and got shot for his efforts.

Someone tells Alexander that John saved lives by attacking the gunman.

Someone tells Alexander that he should be proud of John. That he shouldn’t feel guilty about it. That there was nothing Alexander could have done.

Alexander doesn’t listen.

\--------------

Alexander finds himself curled up in John’s bed. He’s not sure how he got here or how long he’s been here. It still smells like him. There are little wet marks from tears but Alexander hasn’t been crying for a while now. He’s all cried out by this point.

Most of his friends have been by to see him. Even Eliza and Maria showed up, holding hands and offering condolences. _Ironic_ , he had thought. His ex-wife and ex-mistress forgive him the night his best friend dies. Like that’s enough to make up for John’s life.

It’s early in the morning, John has been dead for seven hours and Alexander doesn’t know what to do.

His phone buzzes. Something in him gets him to pick it up. It’s Birds. Another picture with a message.

**BirdsOfAFeather: Just got out of my last meeting for the day. You sure this isn’t your Dwight?**

Alexander just huffs and puts his phone down. He doesn’t have the energy to think up anything to say, let alone type it all out. He shuts his eyes and curls in on himself. He’s replaying his last few minutes with John in his head when his phone buzzes again. It buzzes three more times before Alexander opens his eyes and picks it up.

**BirdsOfAFeather: He’s the biggest asshole here, man.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: You there?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Oh shit. Timezones are a thing, aren’t they?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: You asleep or something?**

Alexander is blearily trying to form a message when another comes through.

**BirdsOfAFeather: Pits, you okay?**

**pitsoffashion: hey man, i**

Alexander’s hands are shaking and he sends it too early. He curses himself and tries again.

**pitsoffashion: i’m trying to sleep.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: You??? Trying to sleep????**

**pitsoffashion: yeah man.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m impressed.**

**pitsoffashion: thanks.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Something’s wrong, isn’t it?**

Alexander blinks, shocked.

**pitsoffashion: what?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: You didn’t give me a mock-offended message about how insulted you are that I insinuated that you don’t sleep or that I’m ‘impressed’ by you performing a basic human function.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: You’re upset about something.**

**pitsoffashion: if i am?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Talk to me.**

**pitsoffashion: you don’t want to hear it.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yes I do. You’ve listened to me moan before. Let me listen for once.**

Alexander hesitates. Typing out the words is hard, like an admission that John is really dead and never coming back. Like sending this message dooms his friend for good.

**pitsoffashion: my best friend was killed earlier today.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Oh my god.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m so sorry.**

**pitsoffashion: everyone is.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Is there anything I can do?**

**pitsoffashion: i don’t know.**

**pitsoffashion: he was my roommate and now the apartment’s empty and silent.**

**pitsoffashion: all my friends have called or been by.**

**pitsoffashion: hell, my ex-wife showed up.**

**pitsoffashion: with my ex-mistress, by the way. found out they’re dating now.**

**pitsoffashion: that’s wonderful.**

**pitsoffashion: i’m lying in his bed and just crying.**

Alexander realizes the tears are flowing again. He has to wipe drops from his phone screen

**BirdsOfAFeather: Maybe that’s a good thing to do. Crying can help.**

**pitsoffashion: it doesn’t get anything done. it doesn’t bring him back.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I understand. Crying didn’t bring my girlfriend back either.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: But sometimes you just gotta cry.**

Alexander does. He cries while Birds sends him reassurances. Birds stays up with him the rest of the night, even though they both have work. Against Bird’s advice, Alexander goes to work the next day, but Birds stays as available as possible. The two or three hours that Birds disappears to be in a meeting are hell.

Washington visits him in the office, offers condolences. Tells him to take time off. Alexander refuses. Laf shows up with tears in their eyes and hugs for Alexander. Hell, even Madison shows up and gives Alexander an apology.

Alexander buries himself in the work on his desk, only coming out to answer Birds’ messages as they came through.

**BirdsOfAFeather: How are you holding up?**

**pitsoffashion: i’m not.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Have you talked to anyone yet?**

**pitsoffashion: no, not really. one of my friends, a little. but mostly you.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: You should talk to someone.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Well, you really should go home, but we’ve already established you’re not going to do that.**

**pitsoffashion: nope.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Hm.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: You know what always makes me feel better?**

**pitsoffashion: what?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible.**

Despite himself, Alexander smiles.

**pitsoffashion: are you serious?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Deadly.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Free the bees, Pits.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: And by ‘bees’ I mean ‘feelings.’**

\---------------

By the time Jefferson returns to the office, John has been buried and Alexander still isn’t okay, but he’s better. He avoids the Virginian like the plague. He doesn’t need any of Jefferson’s shit right now. He and Birds have gone back to shooting the breeze and complaining about Dwight, but they have a code phrase now.

**BirdsOfAFeather: Free the bees.**

Alexander drops what he’s doing. Literally. He’s eating lunch and he drops his sandwich to type faster.

**pitsoffashion: what’s happened?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m in the closet.**

**pitsoffashion: again?**

**pitsoffashion: are you crying?**

**pitsoffashion: do i need to punch dwight?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yes, I’m in the closet.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yes, I am crying slightly.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: And I would appreciate it if someone did punch Dwight in the face.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: But I am not just in a closet,**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m in /the/ closet.**

**pitsoffashion: oh?**

Alexander nearly drops his phone as well.

**pitsoffashion: OHHHHHHHHHH**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yeah.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m bi.**

**pitsoffashion: okay.**

**pitsoffashion: so why did you free the bees?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I just came out to you and all you say is ‘okay?’**

**pitsoffashion: i mean, congrats man. thanks for telling me.**

**pitsoffashion: does anyone else know?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: No.**

**pitsoffashion: i now see why you freed the bees.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yeah.**

**pitsoffashion: do you plan to tell anyone else?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I can’t really come out. It would ruin my career.**

**pitsoffashion: really? in this day and age?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m from the south.**

**pitsoffashion: oh. got it.**

Alexander bites his lip, considering his next message carefully. It’s a little risky, but he sends it anyway.

**pitsoffashion: not to question your decision or anything, and i’m proud that you told me, but why did you choose to come out now?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Dwight.**

**pitsoffashion: tell me you didn’t develop a hate-crush on dwight.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Oh hell no.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I mean…. he’s handsome….**

**BirdsOfAFeather: But he’s Dwight.**

**pitsoffashion: i understand. that’s how my dwight is too.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: ANYWAY**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Dwight’s bi too, but he wears his pride colors like they’re a fucking cape.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: He just parades around and shoves it in everyone’s faces.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I mean, on one hand, good for him.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: On the other, fuck him.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: He gets to be out and proud because he’s my boss’ favorite and he’s from the north so it doesn’t matter.**

**pitsoffashion: i can see how that would be frustrating.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: But the worst part is he assumes that because I’m from the south I have to be homophobic.**

**pitsoffashion: ouch.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: His boyfriend just died, and I tried to be kind and say that I was sorry. He told me he doesn’t want an apology from someone like me.**

**pitsoffashion: what. an. asshole.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yeah.**

**pitsoffashion: fuck dwight.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: fuck dwight.**

**pitsoffashion: i bet if you came out, the look on his face would be priceless.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: It wouldn’t be worth my job.**

**pitsoffashion: you could always move up north.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Not really??? I can’t really just change where I live without finding a whole new career.**

**pitsoffashion: that sucks hardcore.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: You’re telling me.**

**pitsoffashion: if it makes you feel better, i’m bi too.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Thanks.**

**pitsoffashion: how are you feeling?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Really good.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m glad someone finally knows.**

**pitsoffashion: good.**

**pitsoffashion: i’m proud of you.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: The bees have been freed.**

\---------------

Jefferson walks into the cabinet meeting that day smiling at his phone. Alexander only notices because Jefferson seems to be in a better mood than he normally is. The meeting goes smoothly—well, smoothly in comparison than normal. Alexander and Jefferson get into it as usual, but Jefferson’s cheery mood doesn’t falter. When Washington adjourns the meeting, Jefferson is immediately back on his phone and grinning like an idiot.

“On our phones at work, are we Jefferson?” Alexander taunts. Jefferson just rolls his eyes at him and leaves. Alexander is left almost speechless. Jefferson _never_ gives up on an opportunity to argue with him.

He tells Birds that his Dwight was acting oddly today. Birds says that if Dwight’s in a good mood, something awful must have happened.

\--------------

The moment Alexander leaves a meeting, his phone buzzes. He's riding a high from absolutely _demolishing_ Jefferson’s argument against the healthcare expansion Alexander wants. He's ready to tell Birds all about it and is halfway through typing up the story when he sees the message Birds had sent.

**BirdsOfAFeather: I just don't understand Dwight.**

**pitsoffashion: what do u mean?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Well, I’m listening to him talk today, and I can’t help but wonder how someone so smart can be so damn stupid.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: It’s so frustrating. He says the dumbest shit but he says it so intelligently that it almost sounds like a good idea.**

**pitsoffashion: so he’s smart but has bad ideas.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Exactly.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: God, it makes me so mad sometimes.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: When I started this job, I was so excited to work with him. People kept telling me how much of a genius he is, and I was like “Holy shit! Someone who might finally be able to keep up with me.”**

**BirdsOfAFeather: And yeah, he can keep up with me alright. Almost too well. He’s so aggravating and rude and never shuts up. I just want to slap him. Once. Just to see what he’d do.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: That or kiss him.**

**pitsoffashion: ????????????????????????????????**

**BirdsOfAFeather: It would shut him up.**

**pitsoffashion: oh ho ho! is that all?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Obviously.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Though his lips are very kissable.**

**pitsoffashion: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I am neither blind nor dumb. He is very attractive. But he’s Dwight, so…**

**pitsoffashion: you do have a hate-crush on dwight.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: No!**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yes.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Sort of**

**pitsoffashion: i**

**BirdsOfAFeather: It’s not a /hate/ crush. It’s a crush crush.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Or at least it was.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m over it now. Mostly.**

**pitsoffashion: saw reason, huh?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yeah.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Besides, I met someone else.**

There’s an odd twist in Alexander’s stomach when he reads that, but he ignores it. He gets jealous of _anyone_ in a relationship these days. He’s lonely without Eliza or John.

**BirdsOfAFeather: Tell me about your Dwight.**

**pitsoffasion: you know about my dwight.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I know that he pisses you off.**

**pitsoffashion: what do you want to know?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Why does he piss you off?**

**pitsoffashion: he…**

**pitsoffashion: he acts like he’s so much better than everyone all the time. its makes me want to vomit just watching him strut around like he’s the goddamned president or something.**

**pitsoffashion: but he’s like your dwight. so goddamned smart but stupid all at the same time.**

**pitsoffashion: he is also aggravatingly sexy. like hot damn i’d tap that sexy.**

**pitsoffashion: but he also hates poor people and immigrants so…**

**pitsoffashion: that reminds me!!!!**

**pitsoffashion: i gave dwight the biggest smack-down today.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Get rekd Dwight.**

\--------------

The apartment is still lonely without John. But it’s less lonely when Alexander is talking to Birds. Sometimes, it’s almost like Birds is in the room with him.

**pitsoffashion: is it snowing where you are?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yeah.**

**pitsoffashion: it’s coming down in sheets here.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Same.**

**pitsoffashion: the entire city’s closed down. no one can get to work. wifi’s slow as hell.**

**pitsoffashion: it’s practically the apocalypse.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: So Pits ‘Non-stop’ Fashion is stuck with nothing to do, huh?**

**pitsoffashion: YES AND I’M DYING.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Why don’t you curl up with a book and some hot chocolate?**

**pitsoffashion: that**

**pitsoffashion: actually sounds pretty nice right now**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Doesn’t it?**

Alexander smiles at his phone from where he’s bundled up in his blanket cocoon. A weird thought strikes him and he’s sent a message to Birds before he can really think it through.

**pitsoffashion: wanna drink some with me?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: What?**

**pitsoffashion: we both get hot chocolate and pretend we’re sitting together.**

Birds is silent for a moment and Alexander panics.

**pitsoffashion: that sounds really weird, doesn’t it?**

**pitsoffashion: forget i said anything.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m already pouring my milk and you’re backing out now?**

**pitsoffashion: wait you use milk for hot chocolate?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Obviously??**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Don’t tell me you use water.**

**pitsoffashion: …water is cheaper than milk.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Are you serious?**

**pitsoffashion: ,,yea**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Dump whatever water you were boiling right now and get your ass some milk.**

If milk is better than water, Alexander isn’t about to admit it. He’s got a little pride. Nevermind the fact he makes himself a second mug with milk. Turns out they both like mini-marshmallows with their coco.

Alexander wraps himself back up in his blankets. They watch _Tangled_ together, messaging each other through the film. If Alexander closes his eyes, and reads Birds’ messages aloud, he can almost imagine that his friend his beside him on the couch.

\--------------

Alexander’s first Christmas without John comes and goes. He puts up a tree in his apartment alone and takes it down alone. New Year's passes uneventfully. He keeps talking to Birds whenever he can. Part of him doesn’t want to admit it, but he feels closer to Birds than he does some of his real life friends.

 **BirdsOfAFeather:** **I have an odd question.**

**pitsoffashion: hit me**

**BirdsOfAFeather: When we’re talking, do you imagine me?**

**pitsoffashion: what?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Have you ever tried to imagine what I look like?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I mean, we’ve never seen each other's faces.**

**pitsoffashion: we haven’t have we?**

Alexander stops for a minute and thinks. He puts down the pen he’s writing with and looks at his phone. The pride-flag ice-cream Birds still has as their avatar gives up no clues and Alexander resigns himself to telling the truth.

**pitsoffashion: i haven’t really??? thought about it???**

**pitsoffashion: i mean, i guess you’re short in my brain?**

**pitsoffashion: but like, your face is fuzzy. i don’t even know if you’re masculine or feminine or neither.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Really?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’ve got this crystal-clear picture of you in my head.**

**pitsoffashion: oh? what do i look like, then?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: You’re my height and got red hair.**

**pitsoffashion: you think i’m ginger?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: No. You’re like, a brunette red. And you for sure don’t have any freckles.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: And you’ve got these bright blue eyes.**

Alexander barks a laugh.

**pitsoffashion: do you want me to tell you how close you are?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: No!**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I like how you look in my head.**

**pitsoffashion: so what i really look like isn’t good enough for you.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Absolutely not.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I mean, I don’t want to change the image in my head until I can actually see you for myself.**

**pitsoffashion: do you want a picture?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: In my opinion, pictures never do anyone justice.**

**pitsoffashion: alright my dude. your choice.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Good.**

**pitsoffashion: but are you short?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m not short.**

**pitsoffashion: how /tall/ are you?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m 6 foot.**

**pitsoffashion: not fair.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: HA**

\--------------

At some point, Alexander couldn’t tell say when, seeing a message from Birds stopped eliciting the same emotion. Not that the positive feelings went away, oh no. They got stronger. It stopped feeling like a text from Herc or Laf and more like a text from Eliza back when they were married. He realizes this one morning when he looked at his phone just as he wakes up.

**BirdsOfAFeather: Good morning!**

It’s a simple message, one that they’ve been sharing for a while now but it makes Alexander’s stomach flip in a way he hasn’t felt in a while. There are butterflies fluttering around inside of him as Alexander types a ‘good morning’ reply. Then he stops, realizing that he is a bundle of nerves over talking to Birds.

 _It’s only Birds_ , he thinks as he showers. His phone buzzes on the countertop and Alexander rushes through the rest of his shower to get to it.

 _It’s only Birds,_ he thinks as he throws down his usual breakfast fare, texting quickly with one hand.

 _It’s only Birds_ , he thinks as he drives to work and his phone buzzes in the cup holder it’s in. As soon as he’s parked in his usual spot he’s replying to Birds.

 _It’s only Birds_ he thinks as he stares at his phone as he walks. He’s almost holding his breath waiting for Birds’ response. His deadlocked glare does not flinch from the phone until he runs into someone straight on.

“Watch where you’re going, _Hamilton_ ,” Jefferson spits. Hamilton recoils, taking a few steps back and cradling his phone to his chest. Jefferson scowls at him, his own phone perched in his right hand.

“I was, _Jefferson_ ,” Alexander lies. He glances at his phone quickly, but there’s nothing new.

“What are you doing on that phone that’s so goddamned important?” Jefferson’s accent is oddly thick today, like it gets when he’s tired or frustrated.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Alexander taunts, slipping around Jefferson in the wide hallway.

“Texting a new boyfriend? Did you really get over Laurens that quickly?”

Alexander stops in his tracks. He spins, face heating up in rage. Jefferson just smirks at him until Alexander is suddenly in his face.

“Fuck you,” he spits. “John was my friend.”

“Don’t tell me the two of you weren’t sleeping together.”

“We _weren’t_ , you miserable fuck.” Alexander is livid, yet Jefferson’s face remains tauntingly cocky. “We were roommates.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Hamilton.”

“He offered me a place to stay after Eliza kicked me out. We were _friends_. Not that you’d understand what friendship is like. All you’ve got is Madison and he’s the shittiest friend I ever had. You two deserve each other.”

“Don’t you bring James into this,” Jefferson says, suddenly serious.

“I’ll do what I want if you think that dragging John’s name through the mud is an okay thing to do!”

Jefferson looks like he’s ready to slap Alexander, but he clenches his fist around his phone, spins and walks away.

“Yeah, that’s right. Walk away, Jefferson. _Walk away_!” Alexander calls after him as Jefferson disappears into his office and slams his door. Alexander smirks, knowing he won that round, and practically dances into his office. He sits down at his desk and looks back down at his phone. There’s still no message from Birds so Alexander takes initiative.

**pitsoffashion: how’s your friend doing today?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: He’s not doing any better. The doctors are saying he needs to stay in the hospital for a while yet.**

**pitsoffashion: he’s not any worse is he?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: We don’t know. His fever finally broke but he still can’t feel his legs.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I stayed with him all day yesterday. Slept in a motel by the hospital last night.**

**pitsoffashion: damn. give him my condolences.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m really scared, Pits.**

**pitsoffashion: i know. it’ll all be okay.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I hope so.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m going to hide in the closet for a minute.**

\-------------

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m finally finished.**

Alexander jumps when the message notification comes through. He had been waiting for Birds to finish helping his sick friend home from the hospital. Part of him felt guilty for wanting Birds to ignore his ill friend in favor of him, but Alexander wanted Bird’s attention so badly nowadays. It was almost pathetic.

**pitsoffashion: your friend all moved back in and settled?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yeah. He’s so glad to be back home.**

**pitsoffashion: i bet.**

**pitsoffashion: hospitals are the worst, man.**

**pitsoffashion: once, when i was fourteen, i had to stay in one for almost two months.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: What happened????**

**pitsoffashion: my hometown got wiped out by a hurricane. there was nowhere else to put an orphan.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Your parents died in a hurricane?**

**pitsoffashion: no, just my mom’s landlord.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: ?????**

**pitsoffashion: my dad left when i was little and my mom died not long after. got sent to a cousin's, cousin killed himself. mom’s old landlord took me in, he died in the storm.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Holy shit I’m so sorry.**

**pitsoffashion: ancient history.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Do you need to free the bees?**

**pitsoffashion: no, i’m fine. those bees were freed long ago.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: XD**

The idea that he made Birds smile brings a smile to Alexander’s face.

Holy shit he’s so far gone.

\-------------

Alexander is sitting at home when the idea strikes him. It’s a scary idea, a likely bad idea, but Alexander has never been one to back down from a risky idea. Especially when it could have big rewards. He pulls out his phone, writes a message, then deletes it and rewrites. It takes him almost thirty minutes to get the wording right, and five more minutes of hovering over the ‘send’ button to actually pull the trigger. He shuts his eyes tight and hits the button. He doesn’t open his eyes until he feels the phone buzz in his hand. He looks down at the screen.

**pitsoffashion: if we lived near each other, would you go out on a date with me?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Yes.**

Alexander nearly falls off the couch. He’s staring dumbfounded at his screen for so long that Birds sends him another message.

**BirdsOfAFeather: Pits?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Did I say something wrong?**

**pitsoffashion: no no no no.**

**pitsoffashion: you said absolutely nothing wrong i'm just shocked and happy.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Good.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: So where do you live?**

**pitsoffashion: what?????**

**BirdsOfAFeather: You said your condition for going out with me was that we lived near each other.**

Alexander’s hands are trembling as he types out a reply. He almost can’t believe it.

**pitsoffashion: washington dc**

He waits with baited breath. Alexander starts doing mental calculations to decide how far ‘too far away’ is. He is deciding how far south he is willing to go when the phone buzzes and Alexander sends a quick prayer that Birds doesn’t live in Atlanta or something and looks down.

**BirdsOfAFeather: You’ve got to be kidding me.**

**pitsoffashion: no???**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I live in DC too.**

Alexander’s heart jumps into his throat.

**pitsoffashion: i thought you said you lived in the south????**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m /from/ the south. I live in DC now.**

**pitsoffashion: so that means we both live in dc.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: That is exactly what that means.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Is the same city close enough for you?**

**pitsoffashion: our lunch breaks line up, don’t they?**

\---------------

Alexander spends the next morning bouncing up and down in his seat. Time feels like it drags on. He can’t focus on his work at all, not even the essays he’s trying to write. He feels jittery, like he drank five cups of coffee instead of his normal three. He keeps adjusting his tie and his hair. Alexander hasn’t been on a date in what feels like forever.

He’s excited, for sure. But part of him is concerned. He has no idea who Birds really is or what they look like. Hell, Alexander doesn't even know Birds’ gender. Alexander had set up a reservation at their restaurant of choice (they both liked the same places, go figure,) under the name “Birds,” so he had absolutely nothing to go on.

Alexander keeps thinking about how Birds told him once that they imagined him as a tall redhead with blue eyes. Boy, are they going to be surprised.

It’s not until ten thirty that Alexander realizes something else. Birds might be bi, but if they’re male, Alexander might be screwed. Birds had said he couldn’t come out because of his job. Which, the longer Alexander thinks about it, makes a sort of sense if they’re an elected official from a southern state. _Shit_ , he thinks, _shit shit shit shit_.

Well, Alexander is going to take this one date if that’s all he’s going to get. It’s easy to explain away a meeting with the Secretary of the Treasury if it goes south.

When the clock strikes 11:30, Alexander jumps from his seat and leaves his office. He gives his secretary instructions not to disturb him short of Washington’s death, and almost skips away. On his way out, he catches a glimpse of Jefferson standing in a corner with Madison. Jefferson’s dressed in one of his nicer suits, but he looks worried about something. Madison coughs into his elbow, then pats Jefferson on the shoulder.

Alexander passes them without a second thought. Whatever bullshit those two were doing was none of his business, not _yet_ anyway. He could deal with that after his lunch date.

Alexander finds his Uber waiting for him outside the security checkpoints. He slides into the backseat, shuts the door and the driver takes off. Anxiously adjusting his tie again, Alexander watches the buildings pass by. His leg is shaking up and down in the slightly cramped car, and it feels like the drive takes forever.

Eventually, the car pulls up to the little Italian restaurant where Alexander agreed to meet Birds. He steps out of the car, turns to the driver and asks if he looks okay. The woman smiles and tells him he looks amazing. Alexander nods and turns back around. The restaurant doors loom above him as the driver leaves. He takes a deep breath and walks inside.

The place is elegant, but not overly fancy. Alexander doesn’t stick out in his three-piece suit, thank god. He approaches the hostess and gives her the name. He sticks his hands in his pockets so she can’t see them shaking. The hostess looks down at her podium and back up at him.

“It’s a party of two, correct?” She asks. Alexander nods.

“Yeah, but we’re arriving separately.”

“Of course sir. Right this way,” she says, grabbing a menu from the stack behind her. She leads Alexander to a secluded booth in the corner and hands him the menu. She leaves, and Alexander busies himself by scanning the menu. He tries to focus on the words in front of him, but his thoughts are racing. His leg shakes almost violently under the table and Alexander curses his anxiety.

He’s trying not to get wrapped up in how long it’s taking Birds to arrive, trying not to worry that something’s happened or he’s being stood up. Alexander glances at his phone, but there are no messages from anyone. _Stop being paranoid_ , he thinks to himself, _you’re early. Five whole minutes early. Birds is coming._

His stomach is in knots and nothing on the menu sounds good right now. Alexander feels like he could almost be sick with nerves. He thinks about getting a Sprite to try and calm his stomach when the hostess returns.

“Here’s your seat,” she’s saying. “Your other party member is already here.” Alexander’s breath catches and he freezes. He hears the hostess put the other menu on the table and wish them a good meal. Alexander knows he should put the menu in his hands down and actually _look_ at Birds but it feels like the hardest thing he’s ever done. He slowly lowers the menu, steadies himself and looks up.

“What the fuck?” Jefferson asks, staring down at Alexander with wide eyes. Alexander’s thoughts grind to a sudden stop. He can’t quite process what this means.

“Birds?” He stutters out, voice small. Jefferson takes a step back. If his eyebrows were any higher they would be off his head.

“What the fuck?” Jefferson repeats, a little louder this time. “ _Hamilton_?”

“ _Jefferson_?”

Jefferson steps back again, bumping into the table behind him. The impact seems to knock Jefferson out of his shocked state, and his face closes down dangerously. For a second, Alexander thinks he’s going to start shouting at him in the middle of the restaurant. But then something flashes across Jefferson’s face and the taller man takes off.

Alexander is so stunned it takes him a few seconds to actually pull himself out of the booth and follow Jefferson. Jefferson is almost _running_ through the restaurant, and Alexander has no chance to catch up to the man. Jefferson disappears out the door, leaving a confused hostess in his wake.

By the time Alexander makes it outside, Jefferson is nowhere to be seen. He spins around, looking for him. He even calls his name a couple of times, but gets no response. One of the waitresses comes out after him and asks him what the matter was. Alexander simply looks at her, just as bewildered as she is.

The only thought going through his head is that in that last moment, before he took off, Jefferson had looked _absolutely terrified_ of Alexander.

\-------------

When Alexander makes it back to the White House, Madison is waiting for him. The shorter Virginian looks as if he’s about to punch Alexander in the face. Instead, Madison grabs Alexander by the arm and forcefully pulls him into the same alcove he had been in with Jefferson earlier.

Before the date.

“What did you do?” Madison asks. Alexander finds himself at a loss for words. Madison grabs his shoulders and shakes him. “What did you _do_?”

“I…”

“Alexander Hamilton, I swear to god if you do not tell me what you did I will walk into the Library of Congress and rip up all 51 of those essays you wrote that you love so much.”

“What did Jefferson tell you?” Alexander squeaks out. Madison’s frown deepens.

“He stormed in, halfway to _tears_ , called you a ‘motherfucking lying bastard,’ and locked himself in his office.” Madison glares at Alexander with the force of a thousand burning suns. Alexander swallows, thickly. He’s never seen this side of Madison before, not even back when they _were_ friends.

“I… I didn’t do _anything_ ,” Alexander says.

“It doesn’t seem like that.”

“I didn’t mean to do anything.”

“So you _did_ do something?” Madison challenges. Alexander throws up his hands.

“I don’t know! I don’t know! I promise,” he says. Alexander glances around, but there’s no one in earshot. “I was waiting at the restaurant, and Jefferson showed up and flipped his shit.”

Madison’s eyes grow wide. “ _You’re_ ‘pits of fashion?’”

“Uh huh,” Alexander says, almost wincing. Madison’s hands uncurl from Alexander’s shoulders and he takes a step back.

“Holy shit,” he mutters. His eyes are moving rapidly, scanning Alexander’s face for any trace of lying. “Did you know?”

“Huh?”

“Did you know you were talking to Thomas?” Madison urges. Alexander shakes his head rapidly.

“No, no, I had no idea.” Alexander gulps. Madison lets out a breath and runs his hands over his head.

“You’ve got to talk to him, then,” he says. Alexander blanches.

“Do I really? We could just ignore it and pretend it never happened?” He offers. Madison frowns, and steps up so his face is directly in Alexander’s.

“You are going to talk to him,” he says.

“You can’t make me,” Alexander retorts. Madison’s eyes narrow.

“Hamilton,” he begins, “I know we fell out. But we used to be good friends and if that means anything to you, you _will_ talk to Thomas. Besides, if you don’t talk to him, you become the dick in the situation. _And,_ you—” Madison pokes Alexander in the chest “—will lose him.”

“Lose him?” Alexander asks, incredulously. Madison nods solemnly.

“You haven’t heard him talk about you. Or at least, the you he met online. He fell for you a long time ago.”

“He did?” Alexander asks, a little flutter of something in his chest.

“Yes. And if you like him the way he thinks— _thought_ —you did, you better hurry your ass up or he will shut down and you will never have another chance with him. Ever again. Do you understand me?” Alexander nods and Madison finally steps back. “Good. You know where his office is.”

Alexander scurries from the alcove, feeling Madison’s gaze on his back. He turns a corner and finds himself on a direct path to Jefferson’s office. Part of him is screaming to ignore Madison, that ‘losing Thomas’ doesn’t sound so bad.

But then part of remembers Birds comforting him after John’s death and the hot chocolate and him coming out and the knowledge that it wall all Jefferson the entire time warms him a little on the inside. The more Alexander thinks about it, the more his original image of Jefferson—pretentious, asshole, narcissistic Jefferson—crumbles until he’s left with nothing but loose fragments that he has no idea how they fit together anymore.

Every memory of Jefferson being an asshole is matched with a memory of Birds hiding in his work closet and crying. Jefferson’s condescending remarks are pitted against Birds’ shows of unending support. Thoughts of Jefferson's ego are examined against Birds’ crippling lack of self-esteem.

Alexander doesn’t know what parts of Jefferson and what parts of Birds makes up the real Thomas.

As he walks the halls to Thomas’ office, he looks around himself. He wonders which closed door is the one that Thomas hides in to sob. He wonders how he never noticed that Thomas did that. He knows he walked the White House while Birds had been having a meltdown. How had he never heard it before?

Suddenly, Alexander finds himself in front of Thomas’ office. It’s a shock, the appearance of the carved gold nametag on the door. _Thomas Jefferson_. Alexander traces the letters with his eyes, still trying to piece together the puzzle that is Thomas Jefferson.

As if it is acting of its’ own volition, Alexander’s hand comes up and knocks briskly on the office door. There is no response from inside, but Alexander thinks he hears someone shift inside. “Jefferson?” He calls. The shifting stops. Alexander knocks again. “Thomas, we need to talk!” Thomas does not respond. Alexander grits his teeth and knocks harder. “Thomas, please,” he begs. Then he’s struck with one of his patented Risky Ideas. He knocks again, and calls out:

“Thomas, you need to free the bees.”

Alexander thinks he hears a gasp, and a muffled sob from inside. The fact he got an audible reaction boosts Alexander’s confidence, and he tries again. “Free the bees, Thomas. Free the bees!”

Alexander almost doesn’t notice Thomas’ secretary looking at him oddly. Alexander looks at her and winces. “The bees…” he says, “they’re dying, you know. We need to… free them… from… death.” Alexander knows the smile on his face is pained and forced. The secretary looks at him as if she’s about ready to call security. Alexander is cursing himself in his head and trying to think of something to say so he doesn’t sound crazy when the door beside him opens.

A hand grabs onto Alexander’s shoulder and hauls him inside Thomas’ office. He stumbles as he’s yanked off his feet and pushed into the dark room. Thomas slams the door shut as Alexander regains his balance. They stand in silence for a moment, Thomas leaning his head against the door.

“What do you want, Hamilton?” Thomas asks, his voice hoarse.

“I…” Alexander trails. He realizes he hadn’t planned on what he was _actually_ going to say to Thomas. Thomas hits the wall with one of his hands, and Alexander jumps.

“I asked you what you wanted,” he growls.

“Thomas—”

“Don’t call me that,” Thomas snarls, spinning around to face Alexander for the first time. Even though the room is dark, Alexander can see the tear tracks down Thomas’ face. “Assholes who manipulate me and mock me don’t get to call me by my first name.”

“Don’t you mean ‘Dwights who manipulate you and mock you—’” Alexander doesn’t even finish the joke because Thomas is glaring at him with the kind of anger that drives men to kill. Alexander lets out a shuddering breath. “Okay, not funny. Fine, that’s fine.” Thomas’ face contorts and Alexander knows he said something wrong.

“Funny? Is this funny to you?” Thomas snarls. “I bet it is. Oh god, god you _fucking_ knew, didn’t you? Somehow, you knew it was me. You _fucking_ knew and led me on until I told you everything, didn’t you? Was that the goddamned plan? Ha ha, good joke Hamilton. Tell me, did you have a good laugh? Did I _amuse_ you? Is it fun to take someone’s trust and laugh in their face? _Is this_ _funny to you?_ ” Thomas spits as he yells. “Am I just one big joke to you now?”

Silence resumes, and Alexander looks down at the floor. He can’t bear to look at Thomas anymore. The longer he stands here the more he realizes that Birds might be the larger part of Thomas than Jefferson is. The only noise is their breathing, Alexander’s steady and Thomas’ hitching as he tries to restrain the tears.

Alexander gets another risky idea and, seeing how well the last few turned out, he decides to try it. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and opens Tumblr. He doesn’t look at Thomas, just types and hits sends without really thinking about it.

**pitsoffashion: i didn’t know it was you.**

Alexander hears Thomas’ phone ring. Thomas gasps slightly, and there’s the rustling of fabric. Alexander refuses to look up, and keeps his eyes glued to his phone. There’s an electronic clicking as Thomas unlocks his phone, then a pause, then the clicking starts up again.

Alexander gets a new message.

**BirdsOfAFeather: Do you really expect me to believe that?**

The fact that Thomas still types properly, even now, threatens to bring a smile to Alexander’s face. But now is not the time he knows. Instead, he types another message.

**pitsoffashion: yes.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Why should I?**

**pitsoffashion: because it’s the truth.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: I don’t believe you.**

**pitsoffashion: why not?**

**BirdsOfAFeather: Because you’re Dwight.**

**pitsoffashion: so are you.**

Thomas takes a shuddering breath. His next message takes a little longer to get to Alexander.

**BirdsOfAFeather: Did you really mean all those things you said about me/Dwight?**

**pitsoffashion: yes. but it’s different now.**

**BirdsOfAFeather: How?**

**pitsoffashion: because dwight would never have shared hot chocolate with me or stayed up with me all night when john died.**

**pitsoffashion: you’re not dwight anymore.**

**pitsoffashion: i don’t think you were ever really dwight.**

Alexander hears Thomas lose control of a single sob, but he doesn’t react. He’s starting to feel tears well up in his own eyes now. He doesn’t hear Thomas typing, so he keeps going.

**pitsoffashion: thomas i swear to god i didn’t know it was you.**

**pitsoffashion: i wasn’t manipulating or mocking you.**

**pitsoffashion: i really do care about you.**

**pitsoffashion: i’m so sorry.**

“Stop,” Thomas whispers, voice shaking. Alexander grits his teeth and keeps typing.

**pitsoffashion: trust me just this once, thomas.**

**pitsoffashion: everything that’s happened over the past few months, everything i said, was real.**

“Stop, please,” Thomas hisses, begging.

**pitsoffashion: i only hated you because i never gave you a real chance.**

**pitsoffashion: i know you now and i can’t believe i was so blind.**

“That’s the problem,” Thomas says, “You know _everything_.”

Alexander stops, mid-message. He looks up and Thomas is openly crying now. Thomas clutches his phone to his chest like a life preserver.

“Everything,” he repeats, softly. “You know everything. You can destroy me.” With that, Thomas sinks to the floor, and puts his head in his arms. His shoulders shake, and Alexander can hear the muffled sobs.

For a moment, Alexander doesn’t understand, and then it call comes crashing down like a tidal wave. He knows _everything_. About Thomas’ girlfriend. About James’ illness. About Thomas’ closet and his crush on Alexander and his sexuality and every other minute little secret Thomas only told him because Thomas didn’t know who he was talking to. Alexander knows all of this and Thomas never meant for Alexander to know because Alexander was his Dwight and Dwight is the type of man to use everything he can against his enemies.

But just as Alexander knows that Thomas isn’t Dwight, Thomas needs to know Alexander isn’t either. Slowly, Alexander puts his phone in his pocket and crosses the floor. He kneels down next to Thomas and pulls the man into his arms. Thomas stiffens and tries to pull away but Alexander keeps his grip firm.

“I’m not going to destroy you, Thomas. I’m _never_ going to do that,” he says, laying his head on top of Thomas’. Thomas squirms in his arms, but Alexander doesn't let go.

“Stop lying to me, you utter bastard,” he says, pounding his fists against Alexander’s chest. “Stop it.”

“I'm not lying.” Alexander whispers into Thomas’s hair. It smells like oranges and Alexander wonders how he never noticed that before because it really is overpowering but then again Alexander had never been this close to him before. _What a shame_ , he thinks. Thomas shakes his head and it tickles Alexander’s throat.

“You _have_ to be lying,” he gasps. “You hate me. You've _always_ hated me. Just like everyone else, you hate me, you hate me, _you hate me_!” Thomas finally struggles out of Alexander’s arms and turns away. Alexander is left with his arms hanging in mid-air in the empty space between them. Thomas pushes himself up and walks away from Alexander, clutching his sides like he was standing in the Arctic and his own arms were the only source of heat available. Alexander’s chest feels cold from Thomas’ sudden absence.

“I don’t hate you,” Alexander says to Thomas’ back.

“Yes you do.”

“Thomas—”

“You hate me because that’s the only thing you _can_ feel about me because otherwise…” Thomas stops in his tracks. “Otherwise…”

“Otherwise…?” Alexander prompts.

“Otherwise I failed,” Thomas says. The words fall like bricks in the quiet. Thomas takes a shuddering breath. “I failed in pushing you away because I can’t be in love with you. I _can’t_ be.”

“But you are,” Alexander breathes. Thomas hangs his head.

“Yes,” he hisses, “God yes. It’s the worst thing but I am.”

In a flash, Alexander is on his feet and crossing the room to Thomas. He throws his arms around Thomas’ waist and squeezes. Thomas wriggles, tries to push Alexander off again but Alexander isn’t budging.

“Stop fighting, please,” he says, face pressed into Thomas’ back. “Stop running away. No more running and hiding. No more hiding in closets, no more hiding behind phone screens, no more hiding behind that stupid facade of yours. Just stop. Stop, and listen,” Alexander begs. “For me.”

Thomas doesn’t respond, but he stops fighting. They’re just swaying together in the empty darkness and Alexander can’t see Thomas’ face, but he can feel the way he’s breathing. Alexander takes a deep breath and whispers:

“I don’t hate you.” The sentence booms in the silence like a bomb and Thomas crumbles in the aftershock. Thomas’ knees give out but Alexander manages to catch him and turn the larger man around so that they’re both wrapped in each other’s arms. Thomas sobs into Alexander’s shoulder. Alexander shushes him, holds his head with one hand and rocks him in place.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, over and over again. He plans to say it until Thomas finally believes him. Alexander doesn’t know how he feels anymore, but he knows that he doesn’t hate Thomas. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen even five minutes from now, but in this moment, everything is okay. He holds Thomas until his shaking stops and his tears are dry, then holds on for a little longer than that.

\-------------

**BirdsOfAFeather: I’m here.**

Alexander nearly drops his phone into his coffee. He looks up and scans the cafe, quickly catching sight of Thomas standing by the door. Alexander smiles, waves at him until Thomas looks then shoves his hand back into his lap. Thomas slowly makes his way over to Alexander’s table, and slides into the open seat. Thomas smiles, but it’s a little shaky, like he’s still not sure if this is a good idea or not.

To be fair, Alexander isn’t sure either, but what’s he going to do? Pass up his— _their_ —second chance?

Not for the world.

“Hey,” Alexander says.

“Hey,” Thomas replies. There’s a silence, broken only by the white noise of the shop around them and Alexander taping his fingers on the tabletop. Before he can think of anything to say, their waitress appears and Thomas orders. When she’s gone, Alexander opens his mouth to speak.

“I have to say, you—”

“Alexander, you—”

They both stop speaking. Alexander blinks. Thomas bites his lip and looks down at the table. _Nope_ , Alexander thinks, _that is not how this is going to go_.

“Are you going to finish your sentence, or should I go ahead?” Alexander asks, with just the faintest hint of a challenge in his voice. Thomas looks up at him, almost in surprise.

“I—”

“Because I was going to give you a compliment, but if you want to interrupt me, go right ahead.”

Thomas’ eyes light up. “Oh, no, Alexander. Speak. I’m _dying_ to hear what you have to say.”

“I don’t think you are,” Alexander teases, but he’s smiling. Thomas’ shoulders begin to relax, and he’s laughing by the time the waitress comes back with his drink. Thomas laughs like everything Alexander says is the funniest thing in the world. Thomas’ laugh makes Alexander laugh and soon they’re both laughing over some stupid joke they can’t even remember anymore and it’s perfect.

Thomas rubs his face, the last of his laughter escaping. He looks up at Alexander and his expression changes.

“What?” Alexander asks, “Do I have something in my teeth?”

“No, no, I…” Thomas sighs. “I’m afraid this is a dream and I’m going to wake up soon and we’ll be back to hating each other.”

Alexander frowns, reaches across the table and takes Thomas’ hand in his own. “Never,” he says, and he means it. “Never again.”

**Author's Note:**

> That was a thing, wasn't it? I don't know where this came from and I'm sorry but also not.
> 
> Also, I was tempted to separate this into chapters so I could name the last part "Jefferson or Birds." The funniest part about that is I didn't even plan for that. I gave Thomas his screen name and only realized what I had done a couple of days after finishing the first draft. But I think this thing works better as a single chapter so there went that joke.
> 
> There you go, Secret_Rendezlous, hope I delivered.


End file.
